Only a Distraction, Right?
by AngelicKats
Summary: It all started when Sherlock got bored. Then someone got jealous. How will John cope? Will Sherlock admit he cares?{VERY firmly rated M}{Sherlock by Angel and John by Kat}{Disclaimer: We do NOT own Sherlock or any of their characters and make no money from this}{More chapters soon to come!}- A & K
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Bored

Sherlock lay on the couch in the flat he and his flat mate shared on 221B Baker Street. He was bored. Bored. Bored. Bored. No interesting cases and Lestrade had called twice in the past week. He needed a distraction. Something to keep his mind from idling. Not feeling like calling for him, Sherlock shifted the gun in his hand and aimed it at the wall. BANG! BANG! BANG! That should get John's attention.

Three loud gun shots rang through the little apartment, causing John to jump, spilling his tea on one of his favorite jumpers. "Ow, damn!" He flung the teacup down and rushed into the living room, panting slightly. His eyes raked the room only to find Sherlock playing idly with a gun. "And what the bloody hell was that?"

"Me, getting your attention." Sherlock answered simply, staring at the ceiling as he idly shifted the gun, which belonged to John, in his hand. "I'm bored. I need a distraction and we have no interesting cases. Distract me, John."

"Distract- Give me that!" he grabbed his gun away, scowling slightly. "Distract you? Are you really so incapable of entertaining yourself?"

"My brain requires a distraction. It cannot idle, John. There is nothing good about an idle brain." Sherlock looks at John. "Distract me."

He sighed as he put the safety on and placed the gun on an end table before looking back over at Sherlock. " Alright, how?"

"Talk." Sherlock said as he lay there, fingers pressed to his lips. It had never bothered him or annoyed him when John talked, even if most of it wasn't useful. The detective liked just listening to the doctor's voice. He had been noticing lately that John had taken up residence in a quite decent sized portion of his mind. On several occasions he had tried to delete it, but it never worked.

John blinked at the man before sitting in his chair and sighing. "Fine. No more playing with my gun, I nearly had a heart attack when it went off and you made me ruin my jumper. He looked down at the large stain with a sigh. "Maybe Mrs. Hudson will be able to fix it..."

"Take it off." The detective said as he glanced at the other man. Sherlock noted that it was one of John's favorite jumpers and then cursed himself for actually knowing that. He had past lovers that he knew much much less about at any given point than he knew about John.

"Sherlock I'm not going to just strip, that's ridiculous." He stood and ran a hand through his hair. "I'll be back. Resist the urge to shoot the place up while I change, alright?"

At the thought of lovers, his mind brought up several rather distracting images of John. He had asked for a distraction, hadn't he? "Sit. Now." Sherlock said firmly as he slowly sat up into his usual thinking position.

"Sherlock, really this is..." He trailed off seeing the serious expression on Sherlock's face and sat down. "Ridiculous."

Remaining in his position and not really looking at anyone, he said, "Take off the jumper." The tone of his voice left no room for argument.

Something about this situation made John's stomach flutter, barely registering his hands pulling the jumper over his head, the cool air of the room making him shiver.

Sherlock's eyes turned to look at John as they scanned over every inch that he could now see. "Come stand in front of me." The detective leaned back against the couch with a neutral expression.

He didn't move, frozen to the chair. "But... You told me to sit." Something in the way Sherlock scanned his body made him a little uneasy and made the fluttering grow worse. "So.. I'll just stay here shall I?"

"John. You will come over here or I am going over there. I do not think you will like the outcome should I have to leave this couch." Sherlock said in a calm but firm tone, his face still neutral but his eyes now locked with John's.

"Oh." He swallowed hard, his eyes still locked with Sherlock's piecing blue eyes as he got up and shuffled over to the man. "What is this Sherlock? You're acting very weird and I don't think like it."

Sherlock ignored John and spoke in a calm but definite tone. "I could pin you to the wall, John. Hand cuff you to any number of things in this flat and fuck you till you couldn't see straight. You'd cum many times over and beg for more. I would make you mine to such a degree that no other person could satisfy you. I'd chain you to my bed for days and fuck you into the mattress until you were nothing but a moaning puddle, but I won't. Instead, I am going to stand up and walk into my room. You will stand here in shock for the next few moments before going to your room, most likely to wank off to some sort of porn to try to convince yourself that a man didn't just turn you on." With that, Sherlock stood and went to his room, shutting the door behind him.

John simply blinked at the depression in the couch cushion that Sherlock had just occupied and let out a soft whimper as he heard the door close. "What the bloody hell was that.." He swallowed hard and shifted his gaze down to the uncomfortable tightness in his pants. "I..." He straightened up and turned, slinking past sherlocks room into his own, ashamed even as he fished his cock out from his trousers and put on some boring porn. It didn't matter, release came quickly. "Well damn.."

Sherlock walked to his bed before sitting down on it and listening to the noises of his room mate. Seemed his assumption had been correct. That had proven to be a good distraction and one that would last him quite a while. His mind went over all the possible things he could do now and how he should go about them.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Denial

The next day John shuffled out from his room and into the kitchen, needing his cup of tea before he was fully functional. As he sipped the hot tea, he planned the whole day out. He'd call up a girl and go out, head back to her place and shag her until the confusing feelings Sherlock had stirred up settled. If porn won't work, a willing girl will.

Sherlock sat on the couch in his usual thinking position. When John passed him, he said one thing before going back to being silent. "It won't help." What John was going to do was obvious since Sherlock knew simple porn couldn't out do the mental images that were most likely in the doctor's head.

John paused at the door and considered playing dumb before deciding against it and walking out. Sherlock would tell the truth and John didn't want to hear this words. He called up the staircase. "I'll be back later today."

The detective didn't go after him. John would find out soon enough that what he had planned wouldn't help. In most cases, he found that it made it worse. Sherlock moved to his violin and began to play. John would be back soon enough.

John met up with a very nice girl with beautiful overflowing tits. He charmed her easily and lead him back to her place. She knelt right inside the entryway and started sucking him off. And yet, the entire time he found himself remembering the jolt Sherlock gave him with just his words. "Ohh... Shit."

Sherlock listened as the music swirled through the air as he played on of the pieces that he recalled John being quite fond of. The notes filled the flat as he stood by the window and continued to wait. He let his mind dance around John and what he would do when he returned.

After banging the girl, Sarah? no.. Rachel? Whatever, John walked out, feeling worse than before. He was going to march home and demand Sherlock to behave so he can go back to his normal life.

Sherlock packed up his violin slowly after he finished another piece. His mind was cranking away with what would happen when John got home. He was well aware that the doctor would want this to go back to normal and Sherlock was not going to give him what he wanted. Well, what he thought he wanted.

As he walked down their street, John looked up at their window, as he always did when he went out alone. There he was, standing by the window. A soft warmth filled John. He liked living with Sherlock, it was exciting. As he walked up the stairs he shrugged. Surely Sherlock was just messing with him last night, he did say he was bored. It'll all work out if he only acts normal. He walked into their flat. "Hello Sherlock, you moved from the couch. Not bored anymore are you?"

"Acting like nothing happens isn't going to change the fact that something did, John." Sherlock moved about as he put his violin away. "How did your attempt to get what I said out of your head go?" The detective took a glance at John before turning to the window. "Not well, it would seem if your posture has anything to say about it."

He stood stock still in the doorway, cursing the man in his head. "I... I had a lovely time with... Deanne?" He thought he heard a snort of laughter. "Oh shut up Sherlock, can't I even sit down before you start confusing me again?" He grumbled as he took off his coat and puttered around.

"You don't even remember her name." Sherlock said as he turned back to John, the gears turning in his head very quickly. With a course of action decided, Sherlock crossed the room in two strides and had John cornered against the wall. "I'd like to know why you think you can't remember her name." He was close enough that if John moved, they would touch but as long as he didn't there was a small space between them.

John pressed back against the wall, breathing hard as Sherlock trapped him, filling the area with his scent. "I.. Well." He looked away from sherlocks amazing eyes. "I imagine its because she was fairly boring. She talked to much and... And I recall her talking about her cat for half the date, but I tuned out." He swallowed again and glanced back into those steely blue eyes. "Not that it matters one way or another."

Sherlock leaned so that his lips brushed John's ear as he spoke, his voice dropping an octave. "It's because your mind was else where, John. When you were shagging her, what did you think about the most? Me, hand cuffing you to my bed and having my way with you for days? Or perhaps how I could so easily arose you with words alone? I bet that left you wondering what it would be like if I actually did all those things."

John stared at nothing as Sherlock spoke into his ear, painfully aware of how close the handsome man was to him, shame filling him as he slowly got aroused "Sherlock... Please... If you're bored we'll go find a case."

"Answer me, John." Sherlock said firmly as his warm breath ghosted over the doctor's ear and neck. It would be so easy for him to just take what he wanted, but this was a lot better. He would ultimately get the same result and when John gave in, Sherlock wouldn't have forced him into anything.

He shuddered softly. "Fine you twat. Yes. I couldn't get you out of my head." He shifted his gaze to the other mans. "Happy?"

"Not quite." Sherlock's face moved close enough that his breath would warm the doctor's lips, his blue eyes locked on John's. "What exactly were you thinking as you shagged that nameless woman? What was going through that head of yours?"

John felt weak in knees as Sherlock pressed for details and slowly shook his head. "Please..."

"Tell me." The detective demanded in a low tone that left no room for questions. "Now."

He looked down and muttered softly. "All of it. I couldn't get any of out my bloody head. The handcuffs and all the rest" He closed his eyes. "Please let me past now."

"I'm not done with you, John. Not anywhere near done. I will have you on your knees begging for me to just /touch/ you and when I finally do, you will never be satisfied with anyone else ever again. You will be mine, John. You can't avoid it because you already are." Sherlock backed up and walked away, heading to the bathroom to take a shower.

John let out a shuddering breath and watched the man walk away. As the door closed he leaned against the wall and slipped his hand into trousers and stroked himself wildly until he came in his pants. "Oohh fuck.."

Sherlock stripped and turned on the shower to as cold as it would go before stepping under the spray. His body shuddered at the icy water but he didn't turn it off until he wasn't as aroused. Then he turned the heat up and just stood there under the warm water for a while.

John shuddered and swiftly wake to his room, his cheeks burning with shame.

After a while, Sherlock got out and dried himself off with the towel before wrapping it around his waist and walking into the living room. He didn't bother getting dressed as he laid down on couch and stared at the ceiling.

John slowly walked out of his room in a different pair of slacks and stared at the half naked and still slightly wet form of Sherlock. He dropped his eyes. "Would you like some tea?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Domination

"No, I don't and neither do you." Sherlock slowly stood up and walked over to John, grabbing a scarf from the hook behind him. "On your knees. Now."

He shook his head slowly as he stared into Sherlocks eyes. "Please." He whispered even as his body obeyed the command. He stared up at the man from the floor, his trousers uncomfortably tight again.

Sherlock took the scarf and tied it around John neck in a complicated but practiced knot, making it like a collar and pulling it tight enough to make breathing a bit harder but not painful or impossible. "You will call me sir or master and you will do nothing unless I give you permission and only speak when spoken to. Symphony is the word you will remember. I'm sure you know why you need to remember it. Nod if you understand."

He nodded quickly, unsure why the tight collar calmed him down. He should be freaking out but... Oh god was he turned on.

"Strip." Sherlock commanded as he looked at John intensely. "Maybe if you behave I'll touch you."

John felt his insides quiver at the half promise and shakily began undressing, unbuttoning his shirt and unbuttoning his pants. He paused, unsure how to pull his pants down without disobeying somehow.

"You can move however you need to undress but you cannot stand up." Sherlock instructed as he stepped back to sit on the couch. "When your done, you will crawl over here and kneel in front of me."

He lowered his eyes from Sherlocks icy blue ones and nodded as he shifted, he blushed as he tugged his pants down slowly, his hard cock springing free from the fabric. He sat there for a moment then slowly crawled to Sherlock, to Master coming to a stop at the mans feet and kneeling again.

"Look at me, pet." Sherlock dug into the couch cushions and pulled out his riding crop, he had several things hidden in there. He trailed the crop up the doctor's chest to under his chin.

He shivered at the cool leather as it slid up his skin and looked up at Master, his cock pulsing slightly as waits.

"I don't think I am going to touch you, not yet anyway." He leaned in and whispered in John's ear as he pulled a tube of lube from in the couch. "You are going to prepare yourself while I go get dressed." Sherlock put the tube in his pet's hand. "You will not cum and you will not touch your cock, but you can touch anything else. I will know if you disobey." The detective stood and went to his room to get dressed in black pants and his purple shirt.

He stared at the bottle of lube in his hand and whimpered softly, before he wasn't sure exactly what Sherlock waited but now.. He squeezed a small dollop of lube onto his index and middle fingers and shifted slightly so he could reach his asshole. He began massaging it, spreading the lube around the hole before pressing in with a soft moan. He actually loved playing with his asshole and doing it on command made it hotter somehow. "Oh god.."

Once he was dressed, he tucked in his purple button up shirt and went to his closet. Opening the trunk inside, he rummaged through it until he found the butt plug he was looking for along with the remote to it. Tucking the remote into his pocket so his pet wouldn't know it could vibrate before walking out and retaking his place on the couch.

John watched the man hungrily, still sliding his fingers in and out slowly, biting his lower lip to keep quiet.

Sherlock held out the plug with a slight smirk. "Replace your fingers with this and you are not to cum without my permission."

His eyes widened as he looked at the plug, John had never put anything other than his fingers in his ass before and it looked big. He shifted his worried gaze to Sherlock and whimpered softly.

"I gave you an order, pet. Do not make me punish you for not obeying." Sherlock gave him a stern look, giving him one last chance to obey. The plug was the smallest he had, it would serve well to break in his new pet.

With a shaky hand he reached for the plug, internally cursing himself. He could survive the war he could do this. He shifted again, gently leaning against sherlocks legs as he pressed the plug in slowly, a soft moan leaving his lips as it stretched him before settling in. He panted softly and looked up at his master, needing to know he'd done well.

Sherlock brushed his hand against his pet's cheek with a smirk. "Good boy. I think you've earned a treat." The detective unzipped his pants and pulled out his very impressive length, using one hand he guided his pet's head closer to him. He didn't say anything, confident John would know what he expected of him.

John stared at the huge dick in front of him nervously but, recalling what the girls who went down on him did, he gently licked the shaft, tasting a man for the first time. He flattened his slick tongue against the shaft and slowly lapped at it, taking his time before reaching the head, he circled it gently then looked up at Sherlock as he slipped his lips down around the head and started to suck.

A soft growl left Sherlock's chest as he gripped the man's hair, his voice warning. "Do not tease me, pet." His other hand slipped into his pocket to grip the remote. It had ten vibration settings, the vibrating got more intense the higher the number.

He groaned softly around the dick in his mouth, only then realizing he'd been teasing. He closed his eyes and began taking the cock deeper and deeper into his mouth, trying to suck it all into his mouth. He gaged around the member as he pushed to far, quickly withdrawing until only the head was in his mouth, his eyes shooting to Sherlocks, worried.

The detective scowled and gripped his pet's hair before shoving him down on his cock, groaning slightly. "Relax your throat." Was his only advice before beginning to fuck the man's mouth and throat, turning the vibrating plug on level one.

John groaned loudly around the big cock as the plug started to vibrate, shooting pleasure straight to his balls, his throat relaxing as he was distracted, then sucking hard again as Sherlock pushed into his mouth again and again.

"Good boy. Keep behaving and I might let you cum." Sherlock kept fucking the warm mouth and throat of his new pet as he turned the vibrations up to the third level, skipping the second level all together. "If you cum without permission, I'll have to use a cock ring next time. Do you know what will happen if I have to do that? I won't let you release for hours."

John whimpered loudly, his hips rocking slightly as the toy awakened nerves he didn't know existed. The things Sherlock was saying making it harder and harder to hold back from cumming. He kept sucking, making sure to please the man with his tongue. "Mmmm..."

Sherlock shoved himself deep down his throat, holding him there before beginning to fuck his throat without mercy. "I'm going to make you such a little cock slut. You'll beg me to let you suck me off and on the occasions where you're a good little whore, I may even fuck you and you'll beg for more. I'm going to ruin you, make your body hard wired for one person. You'll never be able to be satisfied by anyone else. You're mine and mine alone. Now, cum."

He gagged around the man cock but started cumming the second he heard the command, his hips thrusting against the air as he shot his load against the couch. "Mmmm!"

The detective continued to abuse his little pet's mouth without mercy before thrusting in as far down the man's throat as he could and shooting his load. "Swallow. All of it." Came Sherlock's slightly groaned command, holding his new pet in place. John was his now and if anyone touched him, may they beg for the mercy that Sherlock wouldn't give.

John gagged heavily as Sherlock filled his mouth with hot cream but he swallowed as quickly as possible, moaning as he happily licked up the jizz. After he cleaned the cock up he pulled back and smiled softly up at Sherlock, forgetting to be embarrassed.

Sherlock looked down at John and pulled him up into a deep kiss, shoving his tongue into the other man's mouth. He kissed the doctor breathless before pulling back to look at him. "Good boy."

John found himself basically sitting on sherlocks lap after the kiss that left him panting. He didn't try to move, scared of what Sherlock would do if he did and honestly finding it comfortable after the hard floor. "Good boy." John looked up at him at those words and found himself blushing happily. "Thank you.. S-Sir..."

Sherlock brushed his thumb over John's cheek. "You are mine now, John. If anyone touches you, they will wish that I was merciful enough to kill them. Understand?" The detective's tone was serious and stern, he found himself surprised that he felt so possessive of the doctor. Usually, he didn't care in the slightest what the person he was bedding did outside of the little 'games' he liked to play.

John looked down as he nodded submissively. "I-I understand sir." He could still taste the detective on his tongue, a salty musky taste that he found strange but enjoyable. "S-Sherlock? Could you turn off the vibrations now?"

"Good." The vibrations stopped as the detective reached behind John and pulled out the plug. "You made quite a mess, John. I think you should clean that up. What on Earth will Mrs. Hudson think?"

Johns eyes widened "Mrs. Hudson!" He got off of Sherlocks lap quickly and went to fetch a towel. "She'd have a heart attack"

Sherlock chuckled very softly and adjusted himself before standing. "I'm not sure she would. I have the feeling she'd make us a cake or something to celebrate."

John paused as he thought this over then scowled slightly as he figured Sherlock was right. He grabbed and towel and quickly went back to the couch, kneeling and trying to clean it all up.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Message

Sherlock looked out the window and said simply. "John, you should go get dressed. Lestrade seems to be here." After he said that, voices could be heard down stairs. "Get dressed. Now."

John dropped the towel and picked up his clothes, rushing into his room to change, blushing furiously. "Oh god oh god.." He leaned against his door and panted, listening to the voices as he shakily got dressed and slowly walked back out.

Sherlock nodded and grabbed his coat, pausing for only a moment when he saw his scarf was gone. "Stop standing there and go." Lestrade frowned but left and Sherlock turned and walked over to John, untying the scarf from his neck and looping it around his own. "Get your jacket."

John blushed and raised his hand to his throat. "D'you think he noticed?" He grabbed his coat still blushing. "What if he figured it out?"

"He's not smart enough to have figured it out and even if he did, I don't care." Sherlock finished pulling on his coat and scarf then headed down the stairs. "Come on, John. We have ourselves a case!"

John rolled his eyes and followed him, putting in his coat and wishing for a cup of tea. Nice to see not everything changes he thought as he absentmindedly watched Sherlocks arse as he jogged down the stairs.

Sherlock hailed a cab the moment he got out onto the sidewalk. He climbed in and waited for John to slide in beside him before giving the cabbie the address. Finally, a case.

John leaned slightly against Sherlock. "Remember to try and not act gleeful at the scene, alright? It is sad after all."

"Death isn't sad. It's part of life. Everyone dies eventually, John." Sherlock says as he looks out the window.

"The person was someone's family Sherlock, someone's friend and someone lover." He sat stiffly up and looked out his window. "It may not be sad for you but it is sad."

The detective's mind jumps at the mention of lover and suddenly decides to throw images of John laying dead in various different ways in his face. He shuts it down almost instantly, ignoring the jab he feels in his chest at the images. Soon enough, they are at the crime scene and Sherlock holds the tape up for John to walk under.

John ducked under quickly and kept walking without waiting for Sherlock, unsure why he was annoyed at him for saying something he'd said many times before.

Sherlock walks briskly to the scene, when his eyes catch the skinned body, he barely blinks. Then his eyes land on the teddy bear in the small corpses arms and falters, but only slightly. The bear is a dark brown with a blue bow and white paws and stomach, it's right ear is missing and looks like it had been bitten off by a dog. His mind reels back to his fifth birthday and the teddy bear his mother had given him, a dark brown teddy bear with white paws and stomach, a blue bow around its neck. Then he skips ahead a few months to when the dog got a hold of it and bit the ear off. He looked over the body again, seeing that it was a young boy, no older than eight. This was a message for sure.

John stares at the pile of meat and bone for a few moments before his mind can even register it as human. His medical training told him that it had been a child two seconds before he turns on his heel to leave the crime scene before he threw up. He rushed to the edge of the street and knelt, emptying his stomach next to dumpster. Even his time in Iraq couldn't have prepared him for that.

The detective took the plastic gloves and slipped them on his hands before walking over to the body and kneeling down. "John." Sherlock called as his eyes lingered on the bear before he picked it up and looked it over. The bear was wet and he recalled how he had lost his bear one day when he left it outside in the rain. Whoever this was knew about him. This was no coincidence. He ran his hand through the fur and pulled the glove away before sniffing it. Coal dust.

John wiped at his mouth and inhaled deeply, calming his heart slightly before walking back over, determined to keep his eyes on Sherlock for as long as he can before he had to examine the body. "Yes"

"Tell me what you see." He looked at the body again. Child. Male. Killed by choking. Skinned post mordum. Not skinned here, but else where. Sherlock looked at the bear. Coal dust. He sniffed the bear. Smells like an old train station.

He exhaled then pulled on his gloves and knelt next to Sherlock. "The victim is a child, probably around 7 years old." He gently attempted to bend the child arm. "I'd place death around 7 hours ago. The person who... Skinned the victim isn't a professional, the skinning was done carefully but unevenly." He stood and was careful to breath in through his mouth. "What did this Sherlock?"

"Someone who wanted to get my attention." Sherlock said as he looked over the bear before setting it down as Lestrade came over. "What do you have for me?" The detective stood and pulled the gloves off. "Child. About seven. Male most likely. Dead seven hours. Skinned after death. Carefully done but not a practiced. The boy's muscles indicate that he was probably active. Teddy bear isn't his." Sherlock says as he pulls out his phone to search for an old train station nearby with a water source that would be easy to get a child to.

Lestrade frowned at his note pad before looking back up. "Who does the bear belong to?" John was still by the body and gagged softly as he turned the boy over, knowing if he still had eyelids, he had to make sure they were closed. But as he pulled back he noticed the empty cavity. "Sherlock." He turned to the men. "His heart is gone."

Sherlock paused and walked over to see that John was indeed correct. The boy's heart was gone. "The bear doesn't belong to anyone. It was left behind on purpose as part of a message." Looking back at his phone as he saw the search come up and show him the location of the train station.

John looked up at Sherlock, his confusion clear on his face. "What message?"

"It would seem that someone wants my attention." Sherlock turned heel and began walking to the street, putting his phone in his pocket. "They now have it."

John glanced down at the boy and gently rested his gloved hand on the boys face. "We'll catch the one who did this.." He got to his feet and hurried after Sherlock, knowing he'd must've found something to leave a crime scene like that. "Where are we going?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Obsession

"Old train station." Sherlock hailed a cab and slid into the back seat, waiting for John to get in before giving the cabbie the address of the nearest train station with water. "That bear was an exact replica of one that I had as a child." The detective said, not fully sure why he wanted John to know that. If the murderer knew about his bear than it was extremely likely that he was obsessed with Sherlock. Those sort of things never ended well.

John stared at Sherlock as he processed that. "...So the killer doesn't just want your attention, he wants you." He looked down and whispered. "Is it moriarty?"

"No. He likes getting my attention but he likes me knowing that it's him." Sherlock said as he looked out the window. "I want you to be careful, John."

He glanced over at the detective. "Of course. I'm always careful when a psycho goes on a killing spree for you." He looked awhile and sighed. "You certainly know how to draw out the crazies don't you Sherlock?"

Sherlock discarded the question. "John. I'm serious. You saw the body. This guy isn't like Moriarty. At least he has a game he wants to play. Whoever this is will do whatever it takes to get my attention." That was as close to telling someone he didn't want them hurt as Sherlock ever got.

John fell silent and just nodded. As he looked out the window he gently rested his hand on top of sherlocks and squeezed gently before removing it again.

The cab stopped at the train station and Sherlock paid the cabbie before getting out. He stood there for a moment, it smelled just like the bear, before walking briskly inside. When he stepped in the smell of death hit him hard. There was definitely something dead in the station.

John followed then groaned as the stench hit him. He scowled and raised a hand to cover his face. "Why can't your fans just send flowers?"

Sherlock stopped and looked at the floor, it was a good thing he did. There was a trail of blood but not just any trail. The blood was painted in guiding arrows and as Sherlock followed them, the smell got stronger. He walked into a room with a rocking chair and a dead old woman in the center of it, a night stand next to it with pills all over. The woman was covered in a blanket, but the blanket was made of human skin. On the floor, written in blood: Hope you enjoy my gifts, Mr. Holmes - X

John stared at the sight in horror, then pulled on a pair of gloves, going to do his job so they could leave soon. "Deceased is a women, aged around 60-70" he traced the bruising on her neck. "Apparent cause of death is strangulation about 13-16 hours ago." He picked up one of the pills and studied it. "I don't recognize this."

Sherlock stepped closer to look at the various pills and frowned. He didn't recall what each of them were but he did recall that his mother had taken each and everyone one of them at some point. "I do." The detective stepped back and looked at the woman, frowning still. Just how much did this X bloke know about him?

John looked up at Sherlock and sighed as he thought. "Are you safe from this guy?"

"You aren't. John, I want you to go back to the flat. I can handle it from here." Sherlock looked over the woman and put on his gloves before going about his little search. She had been married. Her ring suggested that it was a happy marriage.

John frowned unhappily but nodded, knowing there is nothing he could say to change Sherlocks mind when he got like this. "Don't be long." He paused as he stood to go and gently placed a kiss on the side of sherlocks head, feeling ridiculous even as he did it. "Be safe." He walked away quickly.

Sherlock went about looking at the body before turning his attention to the rest of the room and texting Lestrade where he was. It didn't take long for them to get there but just before they did, Sherlock noticed something in one of the vents high on the wall. When he looked inside, he saw the video camera. His mind went back to the kiss John had given him before he left. It was obvious that X was obsessed with him and there was no doubt that he would have been watching. John had left a bit over half an hour ago. Cursing silently, he walked briskly out as the police showed up and went to hail a cab. This was why attachment was never a good thing and Sherlock was learning rather quickly just how attached he had become to John.

About five minutes after John got to the flat, the door bell rang. Mrs. Hudson lead a man up the stairs, smiling sweetly as she always did. "John dear, this man is here for you! He has a package!" She patted him on the arm "I hope it's something fun!" She walked downstairs and John stared at the man who slowly smiled. "Hello John."

Sherlock cursed as another cab passed him by, he was just about to throw himself in front of one to get them to stop. He tried once again to hail a cab and this one actually stopped. The detective climbed in quickly. "221B Baker Street and step on it."

"X, I presume. Though that's hardly your real name." The serial killer just grinned and shook his head. "Don't speak, you're only worth is because of Him." "Him? You mean sherlo-" the mans face suddenly twisted into rage. "Don't You SPEAK His Name!" X collected himself almost immediately. "You don't deserve it." He laid the package down on the seat of johns chair and smiled pleasantly at him. "Follow me then, and I won't rape and kill the old bat downstairs, even though it does sound fun."

They got pretty close but the traffic began to slow them down. With a frustrated sigh, Sherlock paid the cabbie and got out. His mind turning into a map as he figured out the fastest way to the flat before taking off at a fast sprint. In about ten or so minutes, Sherlock was bounding up the steps of the flat. He saw a box on John's chair and his phone on the table but no John. Dammit.

John was sitting in a small bedroom, tied to a chair and looking hard down at his hands. The room was filled with at least 6 dead people, all clearly killed at different times. The one closest to him was half rotted away. X had driven John to an old abandoned apartment building and gleefully showed him the shrine he had built in honor of Sherlock. He had disturbing things, a deerstalker hat identical to sherlocks, hundreds of photos, only a few being from the news. And things much more personal, some of which even John didn't understand the significance, something X was extra pleased to hear. But then he grew angry again, ripping at johns hair as he screamed at him for being so close to his Sherlock. He then threw him into the room filled with his victims, dragged the rotting naked woman closer and left, saying he had more important things to deal with. John was trying hard not to vomit as one of the horribly disfigured bodies groaned softly, proving that it was, somehow, still alive, if only slightly.

Sherlock opened the box and had to put his hand to his nose at the smell of death. Inside was the young boy's heart. Just then, John's phone rang and Sherlock answered. "Hello." "Hello, Sherlock. I hope you like my present. You have my heart and now, I have yours." Sherlock grit his teeth. "Where's John?" "Don't worry. He's fine. I'd like to play a game." "What kind of game?" "Hide and seek. You have twenty-four hours to find John unharmed." The detective couldn't stop the next words from leaping from his throat. "If you so much as touch a hair on John's head, I will find you and I will hurt you in the most unimaginable ways. You will /wish/ I had the mercy to kill you." There was a long pause. "Twenty-four hours." Then the line went dead and Sherlock cursed internally, but at least he had recorded the call.

John was testing the rope when X came back in, clearly upset about something. John couldnt stop himself. "Aw, did Sherlock not confess his love to you?" The rage shone in the mad mans eyes as he leapt at him. "What makes you so god damned special? I love him more than you ever could!" He placed his hands on Johns throat and squeezed hard. "I hope Sherlock doesn't come in time. I can't wait to see your insides /pet/" he spat the last word at John and let go, finally letting John breath. "We're going to play as we wait. I always win but do try your best, it's no fun otherwise."

The detective replayed the call and could hear water in the background as well as an echo that you could only get from abandoned buildings. He was able to narrow the places they could be down considerably but not enough to be able to search them all in twenty-four hours and not use the police force which he was confident would be breaking the rules of X's little 'game'.

Over the next 8 hours, X toyed with John, paying little mind to sherlocks warning. He was careful not to break the skin or break any bones but there are other way to torture a man. He would go back and forth between telling John all about the horrible things he'd done to his victims, mutilating the corpses then touching John, making his body betray him after watching those horrors. Then he'd hurt John, hitting him, screaming at him for being close to Sherlock, touching him, and making him weaker in general. Suddenly X stopped and smiled serenely. "I'd best check on Sherlock. I'll tell him you said hello if you wish and what fun we're having of course. You get a 5 hour break then I'll be back. Maybe I'll finally let you cum, you filthy bitch. Enjoy the darkness." He stepped out of the room and slammed the door, the click of the lock explosive in the silent room. John let out a shuddering sob and let himself feel the horror finally.

Sherlock had found particles on the heart and had been running comparisons to figure out where they came from when John's cell rang. He picked it up instantly. "Hello." "Hello, Sherlock, having fun with our little game?" The detective frowned. "Where is John?" "Oh, your little friend is fine. We've been having loads of fun." "You better not of touched him. I'm very good with a knife, X. Much better than you. I could skin you like you did the little boy but I could do it while your pathetic heart is still beating. You want to play a game? Fine, but you will lose and you will lose badly." The detective hung up just as the comparisons finished. Sherlock now knew they were in one of two locations. It would take him eight hours to get to and search the first one and another four for the second one. This man was going to pay. He grabbed his coat and scarf along with a small scalpel and John's gun before heading out the door.

John listened to the muffled phone call then the long silence after it. Then there was a loud crash and John jumped, trembling slightly in his chair. He knew now X was upset again. He dreaded the end of the 5 hours, knowing that it would be worse. The body groaned again, the noise sounding vaguely like 'kill me' John closed his eyes and tried to rest, doubting he'd get another chance.

The next eight hours were torture and wasted time. John wasn't at the first location and Sherlock wanted to hit something but held back and instead ran as fast as he could back to the main rode to hail a cab to the second location. The one place John had to be. He slid into the cab and clutched the gun and scalpel in his pockets. "I'm coming, John… Just hold on…" 

John wasn't sure how much time he had left before X gutted him. They had to be past the 10 hour mark but it was hard to tell, time moves differently when you're being tortured he found. X was back and had raped the barely alive women in front of john, her screams cutting off as he choked her to death, still thrusting wildly into her, his eyes locked on Johns. It got worse as he was forced to eljaculate on the dead woman's body, causing the strong man to break down and cry in front of his captor for the first time, his sobs mingling with the mad mans cackles.

Sherlock looked up at the building and walked inside, not bothering to be quiet. The sooner X knew he was there, the better. He looked around as he smelled the scent of death which seemed be seeped into the very walls of the building.

X suddenly paused when his watch started going off & ran out of the room, locking it from inside before he closed the door. John panted in the darkness, covered in other people's blood and cum.

Sherlock heard the noise up stairs and ran up the steps to come face to face with X. The detective growled. "Tell me where the bloody Hell John is." X's face twisted with both rage and jealousy. "Why do you care so much about him?! I could be so much better to you! I could keep you entertained! You'd never be bored! Why do you care about that filthy little bitch?!" Sherlock shoved the man into the wall and wrapped his hand tightly around his neck. His voice was low and deadly as he spoke. "Show me where he is and I swear to you, if you touched him or hurt him in anyway I will cause you /pain/."

John thought he heard a familiar voice outside the room. "S-Sherlock?" He swallowed hard around the dry lump in his throat and shouted as loudly as he could. "SHERLOCK! Sherlock I'm HERE! HELP SHERLOCK!"

Sherlock growled and dragged the man to the door. "Unlock it." X paused but did it after Sherlock slammed his head into the door. Dragging X behind him, Sherlock saw John and his vision went red. He kept calm long enough to get John untied and tell him to go, handing him his phone. The detective turned to X with his scalpel in hand. "You want to play a game, X? I have one we could play."

John trembled by the door, his legs threatening to give out as he watched sherlock threaten X. "S-Sherlock... Please... I just want to go home."

Sherlock couldn't hear him through his rage clouded mind. The detective pinned X to the wall and cut into his neck in a place that would cause severe pain but not death. He continued doing that as X cried out in pain.

John watched, too traumatized to enjoy his torturers pain. He cursed himself as tears filled up his eyes once again and leaned against the blood spattered wall. "SHERLOCK! Please..."

The detective stopped when he heard John's cry of his name. He backed away from the man who slumped to the floor, he'd bleed out soon enough. Sherlock turned to John and knelt in front of him, not sure if he could touch the doctor or not without him panicking. "Are you alright?"

John flinched when he saw the bloody scalpel and shook his head, the tears running down his face now. "P-Please. Take me home. I c-cant be here anymore." He reached out and clung to Sherlocks arm, shaking. "Take me home."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Aftermath

Sherlock nodded and dropped the scalpel, hugging John to his chest. "I'm so sorry, John." He gently picked John up bridal style and carried him out of the building before setting him down to call Lestrade.

John sat dumbly on the ground, clutching at Sherlock's free hand as he half listened to the phone call, the voices sounding as if they were far away and shouting down a tunnel. He realized he was in shock, and giggled to himself.

The police were there soon enough and Sherlock explained to Lestrade what happened. When they found X or Xavier Steward, Lestrade knew it had been Sherlock but managed to not get him in trouble. It was about twenty minutes later when John and Sherlock were able to go home.

John kept jumping slightly at sudden noises until he just grabbed Sherlock's hand, holding it tightly as he looked out of the taxi window. He was running through the signs of shock and trauma in his mind, trying to distract himself.

When they got to the flat, Sherlock paid the cabbie and helped John out and up the stairs to the flat. He felt a pain in his chest at the way John looked. This was all his fault and he didn't know how to fix it, wasn't even sure he could.

John looked around the flat, marveling at how normal it was. How nothing had changed while he was listening to a woman's dying gasp or watching a body rot before his eyes. He glanced down at himself and winced slightly. "I..." He had to clear his throat, his voice crackly and thick. "I need to shower now." He started to leave Sherlock there but felt unable to let go of his stable hand. He glanced up into those brilliant blue eyes. "Please?"

Sherlock looked at John and frowned, feeling idiotic for not knowing what the doctor was saying please for. He paused, not knowing what to say in reply.

John swallowed hard and blushed softly as he looked down. "Come with me? I... I don't think I can be alone right now."

The detective nodded slowly before leading John to the bathroom. He didn't plan on getting in with him, just sit in there while the doctor showered. Sherlock didn't think it would be wise for both of them to be naked in the shower at the moment.

John kept his eyes on the ground as they stood in the bathroom. "Um... Don't watch me undress." He turned away from the man and stripped, finding it unbearable to be in those stained clothing one more second.

Sherlock didn't understand the request since he had already seen the man naked before but decided he best just comply. So, he averted his eyes and went to sit on the toilet quietly.

John quickly stepped into the shower stall and turned the water on, making it boiling hot and still only shivering under it. Sherlock was right on the other side, he'd be ok, he'd be ok.

The detective watched as steam filled the bathroom and quietly looked down at John's clothes. What had happened was his fault and John had paid for it. Sherlock didn't know what had happened to John, at least he hoped his deduction was wrong. The doctor's clothes spoke volumes of what had happened.

John shivered softly as the water beat down on him & listened to Sherlock's soft breathing. "You're thinking loudly again. You should talk.. It'll make us both feel better."

"I don't think you want to know what I'm thinking, John. Also, you know that comforting people isn't really my area." Sherlock said as he continued to stare at John's clothes. He wished he could have made the man suffer more, but he knew it wouldn't have helped John.

John nodded slowly, pressing his back to the cool tiles of the shower wall. "I know.. But h-hearing your voice helps." He cleared his throat, shaking his head at the stutter. "So um... talk. Say anything."

"Like what? How Anderson's an unobservant idiot? Or how Lestrade's men are almost just as bad?" Sherlock said, trying focus on something other than what happened to John. "Well, for starters they only see what's right in front of their bloody faces." Sherlock started feeling a bit less aggressive as he continued. "They never try to look deeper into the details that are actually of importance."

John listened and sighed softly as the water turned chilly slowly. He turned the water off and stuck his head out of the stall. "Hand me a towel please?"

Sherlock got up and grabbed a towel before slipping his hand through the shower curtain to hand it to John. His mind was working out all the issues the average person would have after going through something like the doctor had gone through.

John took it quietly, aware of the silence as he briskly rubbed the towel over his body, the cool air making him shiver. He wrapped the towel around himself and stepped out, his eyes downcast. "T-Thank you." He swallowed roughly around the lump in his throat. "You saved me, thank you."

"Don't thank me. I'm not a hero worthy of praise." Sherlock said as he turned to leave the bathroom. It had been his fault that the man had taken John in the first place.

John watched the man leave the room, panic setting in slowly as he was left in the empty room. He hurried to follow the man, still clad only in the towel around his hips. "That's bullocks Sherlock, if you hadn't come I'd.. I'd still be there. And he'd be doing things to me, worse things than before. I wouldn't be able to survive that Sherlock."

Sherlock whirled around to face John, his face carefully blank. "Do not make me into a hero, John. You will only end up disappointed in the end."

John stared at him, taking in the tall forehead, the clear blue eyes, the flawless skin over his impossibly high cheekbones. Then the confusion left his face. "You blame yourself." Ignoring the screaming little voice in the back of his head that demanded John keep himself far away from anyone, John stepped up to Sherlock and hugged him, his cheek pressed tightly to the mans shoulder so he couldn't see his face. "For a genius, you're incredibly stupid, you know that?"

Sherlock stiffened at the sudden display of affection before one of his hands came up to rest loosely on John's back. "I believe you have called me an idiot before." It was a moment before the detective pulled back from the doctor. "You should go rest."

John risked a glance up and a ghost of a smile flickered over his lips at the expression on Sherlocks face. "Surprised ya." He turned walked into his room, pushing himself to be alone like everything was normal, though he felt panicky as soon as there was a wall separating him from the other man.

The detective turned on his heel to walk to his room, but stopped when he passed the couch. The towel was still under it. Sherlock bent down to pick up the dirty, stained towel. After a moment, he went into the kitchen and threw it into the garbage before heading to his room and shutting the door behind him.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Recovery

A week and a half passed in a blink of an eye. John couldn't tell how many questions Lestrade had for him about what happened, though Sherlock probably could. But the DI hadn't visited for four days, John supposed he was done for now. John wished that meant he was back to normal, but he found himself jumping when he was alone, and drinking more tea than normal. He was wound tighter than he could ever remember and he had invaded Afghanistan. In the mornings before he completely woke up he'd remember the perfect release Sherlock had given him that day, and muffled his tears in his pillow as his body responded to the memory. That morning was no different as the doctor wiped his eyes and tied his robe tightly to hide the erection that would go away soon as he walked straight into the kitchen for his morning cuppa.

Sherlock laid on the couch, his eyes closed and his hands prayered beneath his chin. It had been far too long since he had a distraction or a case. He needed something to get his mind going. Maybe he should find a new distraction. John had only been a temporary distraction that hadn't worked out, so there was nothing stopping him.

John found himself moving into the chair closest to couch instead of his normal chair. "Sherlock I... I need to relax." He surprised himself as the words fell from his mouth. "Would.. you please help me?

Sherlock didn't open his eyes as he spoke to the doctor, curious that John had actually come to him. He had seen how sexually frustrated John had become, but had actually expected him to go find a girl not come to the detective who had particulartastes. "And how would you like me to do that?"

John shifted uncomfortably, still having trouble admitting it to himself that he found Sherlock attractive. "Um... The way you did it before." He kept his eyes on the floor as he spoke. "You know what I mean."

The detective opened his eyes, but didn't look at John as he continued to keep his face carefully blank. "You are going to need to be more specific than that, John."

John flushed, feeling hot in the cool room. "Why? You know what I mean.. And it's hard to say."

"Because, if you can't mange to say it, then you don't want it." Sherlock said as his eyes slid closed again. If John couldn't say what he wanted out loud, then Sherlock was not going to do anything. The doctor would be able to say it, if he wanted it badly enough.

John also closed his eyes, blushing as he thought about it, deciding almost instantly. "Sherlock.. P-Please, dominate me the way you did again. I want to be yours.."

"Get up. Go to my room. Strip. Get on the bed." Sherlock commanded, his voice stern and commanding as he continued to lay there unmoving.

John shuddered softly as he stood, feeling uneasy until he got into Sherlocks room, where he was instantly comforted by the soft scent of Sherlock. He stripped and got into the big bed, covering his body with the blanket quickly. He watched the door with wide eyes, wondering when Sherlock would come in, his anxiety rising slowly as he waited.

The detective didn't move from the couch for another six minutes exactly, he had kept careful track. Standing, he took his time to straightened out his shirt before heading into his room and to his closet, opening the chest inside. He pulled out a silk tie and a dog collar before turning to John. "Remove the blanket. Do not hide from me, pet."

John stared at the two objects in Sherlocks hands as his body obeyed instantly, removing the blanket to show his cock, already half hard from excitement. His breath came in short quick puffs, as he willed himself to trust Sherlock no matter what was about to happen.

"Do you remember the word I told you?" Sherlock asked as he stepped forward, fastening the collar around John's neck, his finger tips brushing against the sensitive skin there.

John shivered and nodded slowly. He licked his lips and whispered huskily. "Symphony." He stared up at the other man, his heart pounding in his chest and leaned his head so his cheek might brush against sherlocks slender hand. "Please..."

"I will give you a choice, pet. Do you want to be tied to the bed, or blind folded?" Sherlock held the red silk in his hand as he looked at John in the collar, a sense of possessiveness washing over him.

John bit his lip hard as he thought. Both options scared him but he liked getting the choice. "Tied up please.. I don't like the dark much anymore."

Sherlock gave no outward response other than trying John's wrists to the bed frame before pulling open his nightstand and pulling out a bottle of lube. "I'm going to turn you into such a little slut. When I'm finished, you'll be nothing but a moaning mess."

John blushed hotly at Sherlocks words and looked away quickly, feeling himself grow harder at those words even as he tried to forget about the restraints.

Sherlock went to the trunk, pulling out a medium sized plug before walking back over to his pet and settling onto the bed between his legs. He coated a few of his fingers before pressing them against John's entrance, pushing two in at once.

"Ah!" John bit his lip hard and groaned. He swallowed hard and whispered. "M-may I speak?"

A low groan left Sherlock in warning, the only warning his pet would get. If John was going to speak, he needed to call Sherlock 'sir' or 'Master'. The detective would have no choice, but to punish him if he didn't.

Johns eyes widened slightly and nodded, pressing his lips tightly together to hold back his moan.

The detective crooked his fingers inside John as he looked at him. "Speak, pet, but remember your place."

John groaned softly. "Ooh fuck.. Yes sir.." He lifted his hips towards the other man, gasping softly as he tried to get more of Sherlocks long fingers inside him. "Please.."

"Please, what? You need to be specific." Sherlock pulled his fingers back slightly, purposefully not giving the doctor what he craved.

John whined and struggled against the silk necktie that bound him to the bed. "I need more sir. Please, more now."

Sherlock scissored his fingers to stretch the other man, but didn't give him what he asked. "No. You need to convince me, pet, that you truly want me to give you more."

"F-fuck.." John panted softly and looked up into Sherlocks eyes. "Please... Master.. I need more inside me, fill me, use me, m-make me scream and cum and beg for more!"

A jolt went through Sherlock, one that he would never admit to, at John's words. Completely forgetting the toy he had intended on using, Sherlock removed his fingers and undid his pants. "Such a little slut. I'll give you what you want and you /will/ scream."

The doctor whimpered softly at those words, his insides clenching in need. "Yes... I'm your slut Master, only yours.."

With quick movements, the detective coated himself with the lube before pushing into the other man with no warning as he bit back a groan at the tight heat that surrounded him.

"Aagh!" John threw his head back panting heavily as Sherlock stretched him wide open, much wider than the little toy they'd previously used. "Oh G-god..you're too big!"

Sherlock fought the urge to plunge the other half of his length into his pet's tight little body. Reeling in all of his self control, the detective stayed completely still and moved his hand to give John a few slow, pleasing strokes. "Relax." He said calmly in the doctor's ear.

John groaned as Sherlock touched him, keeping his eyes closed as the burning sensation ebbed away slowly. Once it felt alright, the doctor opened his eyes and squirmed slightly under the other man. "M-more please Master, I want more."

"Keep relaxed." He said as he pushed himself the rest of the way inside John, his hips hitting his pet's arse. Sherlock swallowed around the groan that tried to rise in his throat, his brow furrowed slightly in concentration.

John didn't restrain himself and let out a long low moan, feeling more full than he thought possible. "A-ahhh Sherlock.."

Sherlock pulled out almost all the way and slammed back in. Hard. "What did you say, /pet/. Do I need to stop and leave you here?"

John whimpered and groaned, shaking his head quickly. "Oooh.. god no, please M-Master I'm sorry. Please... Mmm, l-like that."

Continuing his slow, hard, punishing pace. A grunt left him with each thrust he made into that deliciously tight heat. "You like being used like the little cock slut you are, don't you, pet? Beg. I want you to beg for me to fuck you like the filthy little slut you are."

John groaned loudly at the verbal abuse, clearly loving every second of this as his cock pulsed. "Ooh please master! F-fuck me, fuck your little cock slut fast and hard, I want to be your little whore that you bend over whenever you want and use my arse as a cumdump!" John was practically shouting as he begged, writhing under Sherlock, panting and moaning from his Masters hard thrusts.

"I plan on it." Sherlock bit the man's neck before running his tongue over the mark, his hips moving in rhythm to a practiced pace. "When I'm done with you no one will be able to even get you hard ever again."

"Ahh... Urgh.. Oooh g-god yes.." John lifted his hips groaning as he tried to get more from the thrusts, his fists tightly closed above his head as he struggled for more. "Fuck me harder Master!"

The detective began to move faster and deeper. Sherlock bit into the doctor's neck, feeling an urge to kiss him but pushing it away.

John groaned loudly as Sherlock pumped into him, his eyes closed tightly from the sensations. "Ooh... F-fuck, god yes Sir, like that!" He leaned his head away, giving his master more room to bite and suck on his neck.

Sherlock stroked the other man in time with his every thrust, whispering against the sensitive skin of his neck. "Cum for me, pet."

John arched as Sherlock brought him to the edge, the huskily spoken command sending him over with a cry. "A-aghh!"

A low groan left the detective as he began to loose his rhythm, thrusting hard and fast into the other man before burying himself as deep as he could go and releasing.

John shivered under the weight of the other man, the hot pool of cum inside him making the room seem colder. "Mmm..." He nuzzled his face against Sherlocks black curly mane, smiling softly.

Taking a moment to recollect himself, Sherlock stayed where he was before pulling out and untying John. He got up and put everything away before stripping down to his boxers, removing his now soiled shirt. "You're free to sleep there if you want, but don't expect any post orgasmic cuddling."

John blinked at the cool tone of Sherlocks voice and looked down, now feeling hurt instead of blissful release. "I... Was I not good?"

All of Sherlock's movement came to a halt at John's words. Well, that tone was never a good sign. This was why he went through lovers so quickly. They always took his distance in a negative way, but he had to distance himself. Attachments were always a complication that he couldn't afford, but when heard that hurt tone in John's voice, something inside him cringed. "No." He answered, turning to face John. "You were fantastic. I just don'tcuddle." Sherlock tried to think of a way to fix this, the doctor had been hurt enough already. "I can make us both tea, if you want."

John looked up surprised, Sherlock didn't normally lie and never offered to make him tea. "That would be nice.." John had to smile softly. "I'd actually like that a lot."

The detective nodded and headed out of his room and to the kitchen to make them both tea just the way John liked it. He came back a little while later with two cups, handing one to the doctor before he moved to sit on the edge of the bed and sip his.

John had covered himself with the blanket, but decided not to take the collar off. He liked the weight of it and the way it made him feel. He took the tea gratefully. "Ah, Thanks very much." He took a sip then paused, studying the tea. "You know how I take my tea."

"Yes." Sherlock said and he drank more of his own tea, not bothering to deny it. He had actually paid attention while John had made his tea and it had stuck in his mind along with all the other John Watson related things that he couldn't manage to just delete.

John took another sip and quickly decided that Sherlock made better tea than he did. He smiled softly into the mug. Or maybe he just like Sherlock making him the tea. "It's perfect." He drank it happy then put the empty mug on the bedside table, feeling drowsy from the warm drink and so decided to rest his eyes a moment.

The detective quietly drank his tea, but didn't finish it as he got up to set it on the bedside table next to John's. He paused for a moment to look at the doctor, he looked quite peaceful.

The stress from the last week coupled with the intense sex and calming warm tea had helped John slip off into dreamland seconds after closing his eyes. The real thing that made him sleep though was being safe in Sherlock's bed. The week he had to sleep in his room, he'd tossed and turned all night, unable to trust the lock on the door as proper protection. Tonight was different. He knew Sherlock would always protect him.

Sherlock watched John for a moment longer before moving to the other side of the bed and sitting down. He looked at the doctor who was sound asleep, surely he wouldn't wake him. Carefully, he inched closer before laying down beside the other man, his arm hesitantly curling around him. Something in Sherlock told him that this was right and for once, he didn't fight it. The detective curled his body around John's, his arms holding the doctor protectively. While laying there, all the things that usually floated around and clouded his head seemed to vanish. Before he knew it, sleep had claimed him as well.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight: Realization

The next morning John slowly woke, far warmer than normal. He slowly opened his eyes, so comfortable he didn't wish to move. He shifted slightly and found himself face to face with Sherlock. He tensed slightly and the other man sighed, nuzzling close. John relaxed in his arms and smiled softly, Sherlock looked so relaxed asleep, so happy. John couldn't help but nuzzle close, closing his eyes again as he enjoyed the warmth of Sherlock's arms around him.

The moment John stirred, Sherlock was pulled back into consciousness. He pretended to continue sleeping as he inwardly cursed himself. How had he slept so long? Normally, he rarely slept at all and when he did, it wasn't for very long. He had planned on getting up before the doctor woke, but apparently that hadn't happened.

John sighed softly as he considered going back to sleep, he was simply so comfortable that it was an attractive idea. But he knew they'd have to get up soon anyway. He shifted and rubbed his chin against the other mans chest gently, delaying the moment that he pulled away. At last he moved back and mumbled softly. "Hey... Good morning Sherlock."

"Good morning." Sherlock said as he slowly got up, already missing the feeling of John in his arms but ignoring it. He went through his closet to get his clothes and dress, trying to act like he didn't spend the night holding the man he was quickly coming to realize he cared for.

John watched him from the bed, half covered in the blanket they had shared. "So.. Any special plans for today?" He asked slowly, enjoying the way Sherlock gracefully and purposefully moved around the room. "Or will you be enjoying another day on the couch?"

Sherlock turned to the doctor as he buttoned up his shirt. "No plans. No cases. Just a peaceful day." He buttoned the last button on his shirt, leaving two unbuttoned. "It's positively hateful."

John looked at the small area of pale skin still showing. "Hmm.. Yeah, hateful." He stood and walked over, slowly reaching up and stroking the area. He couldn't seem to move his eyes from the spot. "I like this shirt.."

The detective looked down at John, a slight smirk curving his lips. "And I like your collar." His hand brushed over the collar the other man had yet to take off and was the only thing he was wearing.

John blushed softly, his hand moving from Sherlock's chest to cover the mans hand on the collar. "I completely forgot about the collar." He smiled softly back up at the detective. "I like it, too."

Sherlock paused for a moment before leaning down and capturing John's lips in a deep, slow kiss. Their second kiss. The detective's arm wound around the doctor's waist. He kissed him with a passion, but not arousal. The kiss wasn't a means to lead to sex or a reward for John's good behavior. It was just a kiss. Something Sherlock had never really taken pleasure in before. Until now.

John melted against Sherlock as he kissed back, feeling completely safe in the other mans arms. After a long few moments he broke the kiss, slightly out of breath and leaned his forehead against Sherlock's. "I'd best get dressed soon..."

"Yes, you wouldn't want Mrs. Hudson coming upstairs to see you naked." Sherlock said as he looked at John. "Though I'm sure she wouldn't be all that surprised with the way you were moaning for me."

John blushed brightly and pulled back, muttering. "I was not that loud.. And if I was, it was entirely your fault."

The detective smirked slightly and undid the collar, putting it away before heading into the living room. "Go get dressed." He found that he was relieved John seemed to be back to himself.

John found himself almost wishing he could keep the collar on, but of course that wasn't practical. He looked around Sherlock's now empty room and shivered softly. "Yeah.. I'll do that." He hurried into his room and quickly pulled on some clothes, leaving his door wide open. Sherlock had seen everything already and he just couldn't bring himself to close the door. To be alone in his own room. Within a minute, John was joining Sherlock in the living room.

Sherlock laid on the couch with his eyes closed as he sorted out his thoughts. Somehow, John brought out reactions in him no one else had ever been able to before. He needed to figure this out.

John watched him for a moment, the soft spot in his heart growing for the silly brilliant man on the couch. He went into the kitchen and made himself a cup of tea, then began making breakfast. After their activities they could use something in their stomachs.

Closing his eyes, Sherlock listened to John move about the kitchen. It was strange how normal this felt to him. The detective thought back to how he had felt when John was taken from him and his jaw clenched. His eyes opened and stared at the ceiling as he realized what had happened when he wasn't paying attention.

John came out of the kitchen, juggling the two plates filled with food. "Are you hungry? I made food." He laid Sherlock's plate next to the couch and sat in his chair. "I'm starved."

The detective stayed where he was for a second longer before sitting up and looking at the plate of food. He wasn't all that hungry, but grabbed a piece of toast and started munching on it anyway.

John watched him and slowly ate his eggs. "So. You look like you've been thinking. About anything interesting?"

Sherlock looked over at John, chewing on his toast. He couldn't admit to caring. Admitting he cared meant admitting he had a weakness and could be hurt. "I'm bored. I need something to do."

John looked down and shifted slightly, unsure his sore bum could handle Sherlock being bored again. "Uh huh."

The detective watched the other man carefully. He seemed to be doing alright with everything that had happened with X.

John finished his plate and looked back up to find Sherlock staring at him. "What?"

Shifting, Sherlock sat up and gave a slight shake of his head. "Nothing."

John frowned but stood, "Right, whatever you say Sherlock." He walked away, plate in hand. He didn't really like it when Sherlock was thinking but wouldn't tell him about what. As he put his plate in the sink he looked around. He didn't like the empty kitchen, even knowing Sherlock was mere feet away. He hurried back into the living room silently.

Sherlock saw John's frown and when the doctor returned he gestured vaguely to the seat next to him while looking away. Maybe John would feel better close to him.

He paused before joining Sherlock on the couch, relaxing slightly at mere proximity of the other man. "You never let me share the couch."

"Would you rather sit in your chair?" Sherlock asked as he glanced over at the doctor. "I never said you had to sit here."

John frowned again and shifted. "I wasn't complaining." He looked away, pouting slightly. "No need to be snappy."

A sigh escaped Sherlock's lips as he reached out and pulled John against him. "Stop pouting. It doesn't suit you."

John blinked as Sherlock held him close then he relaxed, cuddling the other man contentedly. "You're comfortable.."

Sherlock didn't respond, simply looking away as if he was merely tolerating the closeness when in all honesty he enjoyed it much more than he'd ever admit.

He nuzzled closer and smiled. "And you smell nice." He looked up at the other man. "What do you wanna do today?"

"I'm not sure. We have no cases." Sherlock said as he looked down at the man cuddled up to him.

"We could go out and do something. Not everything revolves around murders, you know."

"And where would you like to go?" Sherlock asked, not really planning on going anywhere, but still curious.

The doctor shrugged. "No where specific. We could go get coffee, take a walk. Not be cooped up all day."

The detective thought about that for a moment. "Alright. We can go anywhere you'd like to go."

John blinked and looked up at the man. "Alright? No arguments? No complaining? Just alright?" He pulled back and crossed his arms. "Why?"

Sherlock stood and went to grab his coat and scarf. "The reason is irrelevant."

John scowled. "Then I don't want to go out." He knew he was being childish but the simple way Sherlock dismissed his question had him annoyed. "We'll just stay in the flat all day, sitting on the couch, not doing anything."

There was a pause before Sherlock turned to John. "I'm not going to make you come with me." Another pause. "Though I would prefer it if you did."

John stared up at the man and sighed softly. "Alright, I suppose I don't need to know why.." He stood and grabbed his coat. "Let's go. We could grab some ice cream."

Sherlock grabbed John's arm and pulled him into a deep kiss, putting every emotion that he could never say out loud into that one kiss. This was his confession. His way of saying he cared, that he loved the other man. It had happened without him realizing it. The fall had been gradual, unnoticed even by him. Thinking back to before John walked into his life, Sherlock realized how alone he had been. Now that he had someone, he would do anything to keep him safe. This man had made him feel things he had never felt before, never thought he could feel.

John froze for a few seconds surprised by the force of the kiss, but soon melted into his arms, kissing him back happily. "Mmm... Come on then, I'll buy~" John took Sherlock's hand and waked downstairs, glowing with happiness.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine: Disciple

Sherlock didn't eat anything when they went out, but he did watch John eat. It was about an hour or so later before they were heading up the stairs into the flat. The doctor eating his ice cream had been a very nice sight, now Sherlock wanted to put something else in that mouth of his. "John." The detective started with a firm tone. "Strip."

John froze and blushed "Sherlock.." He shook his head as he took his coat off. "No, I'm not going to just strip on command."

It took Sherlock exactly five seconds to have John pinned with his chest to the wall and Sherlock's lips to his ear. "I thought I made it clear. You are _mine_."

John struggled back against Sherlock's weight, those last three words sending jolts straight down to his groin no matter how hard he fought it. "God Sherlock..."

"Maybe my little pet isn't disciplined enough." Using his scarf, Sherlock tied John's wrists behind his back. "I'll have to fix that."

John whimpered softly and try to look over his shoulder at the detective. "N-no.. I mean.. W-what are you going to do?"

"You'll see, pet." Sherlock pulled John into his room, untying him just long enough to strip him and grab his pair of silk covered hand cuffs before cuffing his wrists to a sturdy hook in the ceiling of his room.

John groaned softly, standing on the balls of his feet. "Since when do you have a hook hanging from the ceiling?"

"It has been there a while. You just never noticed." Sherlock turned and grabbed his riding crop, twirling it in his hand. "You will say 'Thank you, Master' for every hit."

John eyes widened and he quivered, both excited and dreading the hits. "Y-yes, sir."

Without warning, the riding crop whizzed through the air before making contact with John's stomach. Sherlock was determined to make it clear that John was his.

John cried out, his body tensing at the pain. "Thank you, master!" He closed his eyes tightly, waiting for the next smack.

Sherlock walked around the doctor, the riding crop trailing over his skin before pulling back only to hit John's back with a sound smack.

"Ah!" John groaned as heat bloom around the hit areas and somehow sent jolts of pleasure to his groin. "Thank you, Master."

Smack. Smack. The riding crop hit the doctor twice more on his back. Sherlock walked around to stand in front of _his_ John Watson.

John whimpered softly. "Thank you master, thank you master." He opened his eyes and looked at Sherlock, embarrassed that his cock stood straight out from him. That Sherlock could make him do anything from this point on.

Sherlock ran the riding crop over John's skin, down to press against the tip of his erection. His striking eyes gazed intently at the other man. "Who do you belong to?" He paused after each question to give John time to answer. "Who is it that you answer to?" Sherlock paused again and stepped closer to the man. "Who is it that you will always belong to?"

John quivered at the firm touch on his erection, barely able to keep his hips from thrusting against the cool leather. "You Master. God, only you forever." He bit his lip and asked softly. "Please.. Will you touch me now?"

A smile tugged at the edges of his lips as he dropped the riding crop. Sherlock pressed a light kiss to the underside of the doctor's jaw as he spoke. "Where do you want me to touch you, pet?"

John whined softly, straining forward to feel more. "Everywhere.. Fuck me please, Master, and stroke me and.. And let me suck you, suck me. I.." The doctor closed his eyes, knowing he was rambling and begging but he needed contact. He needed Sherlock. "Please.."

"Pick two." Sherlock said as he licked John's skin before stepping back. "Maybe if you had listened to me in the first place, you could have been rewarded with everything."

John whimpered softly, regretting his earlier decision. "Yes sir.. Please fuck your pet hard and stroke me. I need you so badly Master.."

It took less than ten seconds for Sherlock to undo his pants, pull himself out, and press his clothed body against John's with his legs wrapped around his waist. "Suck." He instructed as he pressed two fingers to his pet's lips.

John obeyed instantly, opening his mouth and suckling on Sherlocks slim fingers, running his tongue up and down and between the digits, as he moaned softly. He slowly ground himself against Sherlock, whimpering softly as his sensitive cock slid against Sherlocks clothing.

After a moment, Sherlock removed his slick fingers from John's warm mouth and trailed them down to his entrance. He nipped at the man's neck as he slipped a single, long finger into the doctor's tight body.

"Ngh..." John pressed his ass back, rocking there against the warm finger. "Ohh... Please, sir.."

Sherlock chuckled softly and added a second finger, scissoring them to stretch the doctor easily. "So eager… Such a good little pet."

"Uhh... Y-Yes sir." John watched Sherlock closely, silently begging the man to fuck him now, though his pride wouldn't let him say the words.

A soft chuckle rumbled in Sherlock chest at the look in John's eyes. "Are you really going to let your pride get in your way now, pet? You've begged me before." He crooked his fingers inside the other man. "And you'll do it again."

"Ah!" John hung his head panting softly at the simple touch to his prostate, both cursing God and thanking him for giving him such a spot to be touched. "Please, Master... Don't make me beg again.."

"Oh, but I so enjoy it when you beg." Sherlock licked the shell of the doctor's ear as he pressed into the bundle of nerves before pulling his fingers out.

"Oooh god.." John groaned softly and looked up into Sherlocks cool blue eyes. "Please... Please fuck me, sir, I n-need your cock in me now."

Without any warning, the head of Sherlock's erection pushed into John as his lips swallowed any noise he made. His arms held the doctor firmly so not much weight was put on his arms.

John moaned loudly against Sherlock's lips, wishing he had his hands free to tangle into Sherlock's beautiful curly hair and force him to go faster.

The detective used his self control to slowly push into John, drawing it out as much as he could. He bit back the groan that rose in his throat at the feel of the tight heat that enveloped him.

John whimpered softly and dropped his head back. "Ohh fuck... Please fuck me hard now!"

"No." Sherlock grunted as he reached to undo John's restraints. He pushed in the rest of the way as the doctor's weight sank down on him, a soft moan leaving him. The detective moved them to the bed with determination before he began moving slowly.

John groaned as Sherlock's filled him completely and finally tangled his fingers  
in Sherlock's hair. "God.."

Sherlock pulled John's legs so they rested over his shoulders. His eyes were determined as he kept a slow, deep rhythm, making sure to tease brushes against the doctor's prostate every time.

John whimpered loudly, his fingers digging into the other man. "M-master, please!" John writhed under the slender man gasping. "F-fuck!"

"John…" Sherlock breathed against the man's ear, trying to make it clear. He wasn't going to move faster, this was going to be a slow climb and Sherlock wasn't going to change his mind.

John closed his eyes tightly, moving up against his lover, getting the point. He both loved and hated the man as he pushed him to the edge and held him there.

A thin sheen of sweat on Sherlock's forehead was the only facial reveal of how hard he was concentrating on keeping his rhythm. He kissed John deeply as he moaned, this was the first time he had slowed down enough during sex for it to be anywhere near the category of 'love making'. Until now.

John leaned up and kissed the man above him, his hands tightening on Sherlock's as he groaned in pleasure.

Sherlock kissed back with a passion, his hips starting to lose their rhythm, but only slightly, as he got closer to his own release.

John groaned louder, his eyes begging the other man. "P-please. Touch me.."

Without asking for begging or anything else, Sherlock's hand reached out and stroked John in time with his thrusts.

"Nghh... Ahh!" John clung to Sherlock desperately holding back now. "Ooh god.. S-sherlock.. cum w-with me."

The detective nodded and thrust deep into John, letting himself go as came. He clung to the doctor, his forehead resting on his shoulder.

John came loudly two seconds after the man on top of him started pumping him with hot jizz, covering their stomachs in it. He shuddered softly as he panted. "D-Damn.."

Sherlock took a slow, steadying breath before pulling out to lay next to John in his now soiled shirt and wrinkled pants. His blue eyes sliding close as he relaxes into the mattress, his arms laying on either side of him, but a single finger still touching the doctor's side.

John groaned softly as he stretched, sore from being in the same position for so long. He closed his eyes, and slowly curled up against Sherlocks arm, wanting as much contact as he could get without the detective pulling back, saying he doesn't cuddle.

The detective didn't argue as he laid there, enjoying that sated feeling he got after sex. His blue eyes opening to look at John, the one man who had gotten under his skin.

John had his eyes closed peacefully, relaxed from pleasure and the scent of his lover surrounding him.

With the warmth of John right next to him, Sherlock's eyes soon closed again. It was peaceful, but strangely, Sherlock didn't find it hateful for once in his life.

John gently kissed Sherlock's shoulder and spoke softly. "Thank you for punishing me, sir.."

Sherlock's lips curved in a slight smile but he said nothing. For once, he wanted to enjoy being idle. So, he closed his eyes and let John's warmth and presence clear his mind of everything else. It was only moments later than he had fallen into a peaceful sleep.


End file.
